


Two sides of the same coin, same side of two different coins

by Mistropolis



Series: Through mist and lives and pain and hope [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Depression, Developing Friendships, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Male-Female Friendship, Mild Gore, No Spoilers, Schizophrenia, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sorry for this mess of tags it's the first time I use ao3, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistropolis/pseuds/Mistropolis
Summary: Superheroes and Supervillains all have their iconic origin stories, but what about supervigilantes? Are they from good or evil? Or something in between?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is written like, two months before the v3 game's release, so expect quite some inaccuracies. But anyway hope you enjoy.

Side:One

  
"How do you know you can't do it if you don't try?"

  
Iruma's pout became bigger. "What do you mean I didn't try, Dad? Last time it was a disaster―"

  
"Last time it can start talking with us―"

  
"Last time it was blind luck!" Iruma retorted, but she knew she was losing. Men of science like her parents obviously wouldn't believe bullshit like that. "Fine. I'll tell you. I… Just don't like the idea of the AI becoming smarter than me."

  
A gentle laugh could be heard from the kitchenette. Such lovely laugh could only belong to her mother. "Are you worried that we will love you less because the AI is smarter?"

  
"It's a legit concern! What if it really become smarter and you guys want its assistance only? I'll get left out from the fun!"

  
They both laughed then. Iruma thought she would go to any length to hear it again, but now was not the time to indulge in their laughter. "I'm being serious! What if that really happens―"

  
Her chocolate cake was carried out to her right at that time. Iruma must admit chocolate was a particularly effective deterrent to her speech. "For the sake of this chocolate cake, I… I'll believe you guys for once!"

  
As Iruma gobbled slices after slices of cakes, her parents looked at her with adoration. At least, Iruma would like to think that. It banished the thought that without her inhumane intelligence she would be ordinary, she would be mundane and boring, boring and worthless.

  
She loved to think that, even as a normal teenage girl, her parents would be there for her.

  
Her father shoved out a tiny box then.

  
Iruma curiously opened the box. Inside was a chip. "Huhhhh, an AI, really?"

  
"A blank slate AI, so you can have more freedom and practise more."

  
"C'mon, Dad, you know how disastrous things will be~~"

  
They laughed again. Just when Iruma thought she could get back to complaining again, her Mom spoke up again. "You have to remember, Miu, we love you with all our heart. It wouldn't change depending on your abilities."

  
Iruma swore she could still hear her Mom's words ringing at her ears even now.

 

~*~

  
Side:Two

  
"How do you know you can't do it if you don't try?"

  
Ouma eyed his mother warily. The taser in her hand was still crackling with electricity. He really hated his mother's power of controlling electricity. "I… Told you I couldn't―"

  
Another current came straight for him. Curse her ability to make the current just small enough that he wouldn't be spasmodic the way he should be after that many hits.

  
"No excuses! You have to be powerful! It's mandatory!" Her face twisted into a snarl. Then it softened into a grimace. "Why do you have to make me hurt you?"

  
_You always have the choice not to hurt me_. An inner voice growled inside the periphery of his consciousness, but all Ouma could say was _don't hurt me anymore, please I'll do anything I can―_

  
A horrid shriek of fear escaped his mother's mouth. Ouma didn't understand what was so scary about him spreading his hands out to protect himself, but then he saw it. The most impossible of miracles.

  
Behind him was the phantom of a dog, but much more solidified, much more detailed than his previous illusions.

  
Applause rang out. Ouma looked to the entrance of the room. His father was descending the stairs, coming straight for him. At least that grin on his face indicated that he was in a good mood.

  
"Good, Kokichi, excellent!" He clapped Ouma on the back, both his face and voice joyous for a change. His mother joined them, face still fixed in a grimace of pain, but it was obvious that she was happy too.

  
"I know you have the potential to expand your power. Sooner or later, you'll be able to manipulate reality itself too!" His father smiled down at him. "When the time comes, remodeling the whole world will no longer be a dream!"

  
_Like hell I'd like to see that world for myself_. The thought popped up in Ouma's mind. But he mentally told himself to shut up. _Better think like that too. Better bury yourself to save yourself._

  
"Today's your birthday, Kokichi, so we have this gift for you." While Ouma was spacing out, his parents shoved him something soft and velvety. He looked down. The birthday gifts were a neatly folded black cape, with a strange hat on it. "Go on, try them on."

  
Ouma forced his weak limbs to function, putting on the cape and hat. The hat had strange insignias, and the cape was actually tattered at the edges.

 

"These are the classic symbols of a dictator, someone is born to conquer the whole world." They informed him, voices full of admiration. "This is the hope we have for you, Kokichi. To take over the whole world, plunging it into the darkness we have craved for so long."

  
_We_. Ouma munched over the word for an awfully long time. The fact that it has never equated _We and our son Kokichi_ , but meant _We and our allegedly amazing fellow cultists, and this sorry excuse of a human being we use to further our agenda_.

  
Ouma flanked the cape, trying to feel like the dictator his parents projected onto him, but failing.

 

At least he could force a smile. "Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

Side:One

  
The heaviest coffin rested with the smallest chip; specifically, the one that contained the AI her parents gave her.

  
Hesitation has become an attribute of hers, Iruma slowly realized. She has been standing there, pondering forever whether she wanted to put the AI she had never tampered with into the coffins her parents rested in. But even so, how should she place it? Whose coffin to put it in?

  
There were a lot questions she couldn't understand no matter how hard she worked her supernaturally clever brain; why did the beam shot exactly on them, why were her parents just targeting that villain with a penchant for weird inventions, why did the villain die exactly as her parents, so she was left without a drive for revenge at the very least?

  
Iruma kept on considering; but did she really want to get rid of all evidence that her parents ever existed? Did she want to be alone all by herself?

  
Out of the morgue, Iruma could faintly hear the Christmas jingles out there. Children throwing snowballs at each other, families gathering to have dinner, their collective happiness palpable. _What vicious timing too._

  
The jingles brought a dim memory back from her mind. _When I was younger, Papa and Mama always came back for family dinner. It might just be the three of them, our traditions might have repeated with absolutely no variation, but those were happy times. Times when I could forget my worries, my insecurities. Times when I could be myself without any concern._

  
Iruma eyed the chip again.

 

.

 

The program running on the computer used to be her least favorite in the world, but her future might rely on it.

  
At least, her emotional stability definitely did.

  
Learning the programming language, actually typing them in… All were a nightmare to her, but Iruma found herself getting addicted to it. Her fingers dancing, flying all over the keyboard, creating a language for the AI she now nourished to the best of her abilities.

  
Speaking feature, self-learning features, access to the Internet (the most crucial feature; lacking Wi-Fi, Iruma decided, was more unfortunate than the inability to self-learn), capability to analyze emotions… All were coming together, woven into a sentient being that would definitely accompany her for years to come.

  
"Hi, Iruma Miu-san. What can I do for you?"  
The days of hard work finally culminated into this… This beauty made of an AI, someone who can be surrogate parents for her, surrogate friend for her, maybe even……

  
The only question though; how did she type in "care and concern for Iruma Miu"?

 

~*~

  
Side:Two

Ouma couldn't believe he would ever smile from ear to ear.

  
But even the smile hurt; his facial muscles didn't have enough energy to maintain that smile.

  
"Have that shit-eating grin while you still can," His father spat on him. The task force officer tackled him onto the ground. "I can't believe you dare to rat us out to our mortal enemy!"

  
For the sake of this victory, Ouma kept up his smile. "Didn't you always teach me, to keep my friends close," Then, he concentrated on weaving an illusion of acidic blood pouring out of his father's mouth, eyes and ears. "and to keep my enemies closer?"

  
For the first time in forever, Ouma genuinely enjoyed the expression of panic on his father's face.

  
Another thing he remembered from his lessons: casting his more complex illusions required more concentration and mental instruction. _Blood is pouring out of your eyes, mouth, and ears. Oh God, even your nose. Your blood is as acidic as your attitude to life, your mistreatment of your own son. So acidic, your skin is quickly corroding into nothing. You'd do anything to take away the pain―Wait. You won't ever treat your son better to save your own skin. Maybe that's why your skin is melting away even faster now._

  
The illusion thoroughly woven, his father started howling in pain, clawing at his own eyes, and launched himself onto Ouma. To no avail, though―the SMPD officer had him in a strong hold.

  
_Chance to play up my "victim" image_. Ouma smirked to himself, then turned to the SMPD officers and agents with a tear-streaked face contorted in sadness. The best impression of "victim" he could put up. "Please, Dad, don't hit me anymore, I'd do anything you ask!"

  
He looked up to them to gauge their reaction. Ouma believed that these people, professional and experienced with handling evil, decadent Supervillains, would be good at showing no emotions, offering up no sentiment or judgement. Which was exactly why Ouma broke into a bigger smile (secretly, of course) when he spotted all of them furious, nigh-unable to hold in their fists to beat up this sorry excuse of a human being. It didn't take them long to finally tie up both of them and sent them away.

  
Ouma smiled again. Before he fainted out of malnutrition and dehydration, the thought he had was: I could get used to smiling.

 

.

  
That sentiment dissolved as soon as he woke up in the foster care home. "Who is this boy?" "Why is he all pale and so small?" "Why does he have a cape and hat with him?"

  
The whispers gathered and became a racket in his head. Ouma just wished for some peace of mind. Why was it so hard?

  
The moment he forced his eyes open, he regretted it even more; he was somehow still wrapped up in his cape, with that weird hat too.

  
"Please… I just want some quiet…" He spoke up, but only a whisper slithered out, before he fainted again.

 

.

  
"Are you okay?" A feminine voice drilled itself into the thick of his nausea. Ouma forced his eyes open again. His arms were all patched up.

  
"Seems like you're conscious at the very least, maybe we can send you out to everyone else early," Before Ouma could get a word of protest out, he found himself in the crowd of children from earlier again. "Children, greet your new pal. He's Ouma Kokichi."

  
"Why did he have those weird costumes?" More questions rang out, but before Ouma could volunteer any response, the adult guardian left with a simple "Try getting along with each other," and Ouma was left to his own devices again.

  
"Hey, stop being a nuisance and get out of my way!" A boy twice as big as Ouma pushed him away roughly, and some of the kids laughed in response. Some of the other kids weren't as heartless, though; those kids actually yelled at the boy for pushing Ouma.

  
"Don't hit that new kid!" "Can't you see he's so sick already!"

  
_Maybe the victim image could work here too_. Ouma started his whining again. "Please… My parents just stopped hurting me… I don't want more of these…" Those kids, upon hearing his whine, started rallying for him, pushing the bully and his friends back. Before you knew it, a fight has erupted. _Good. That's very good._

 

.

  
Ouma made plans for visiting the kids who helped him. He wasn't talented in anything; couldn't make candy, couldn't make up or tell a joke, couldn't soothe the kids of their pains or loneliness.

  
"Kokichi, what is it?" The bespectacled kid, apparently named Tasuke, ran up to Ouma. He was one of the kids who were at the forefront on his defense.

  
Ouma displayed a brilliant smile. "I'm so thankful of you guys helping me. I'm not particularly good at anything, but…"

  
Tasuke's eyes widened in shock, as his mouth started crunching on a ghost candy that Ouma conjured. The sweetness was easy to emulate, so Ouma didn't sweat much about doing it.

  
"Kokichi… Is that?" "It will be a secret between us," Ouma's smile became wider. "my magic only works for those I like. It may not be real, but that's better than nothing, right?"

  
Now the other kids who have helped him turned their greedy eyes to him, all, no doubt, eager for a taste of what Ouma's got to offer.

  
And Ouma's damn sure this would be a fair trade.


	3. Chapter 3

Side:One

  
"Miu-chan, is there anything you would like me to do today?"

  
Iruma's smile widened upon hearing the voice of her most precious AI. She named it "Hope"; the symbol of her growing hope for a better future, her growing hope that her life could get better.

  
"Today, I think I would like to finish that eyedrop contacts of mine." Iruma stretched herself, tumbling out of bed. "I'm pretty desperately in need for money."

  
"Are you referring to:this?" Hope scanned through the computer's folders, opening the file with the blueprints of the contacts, Iruma's 124th project. Iruma hummed happily, as she sat down and started working on making a prototype.

  
"Hope, can you take out that human model I made earlier?" Iruma requested. Hope obliged, the model sliding out of one of those cabinets in the house.

  
_I can definitely live this way_. Iruma thought to herself, working away with the contacts.

 

.  
  
"We are unfortunate to inform you, Miss Iruma, but―"  
"I knew it, I knew it! You're gonna tell me my invention is yet another failure! So you're not gonna pay me! And I'm yet again left with the heartache that I'm painfully broke again!"

  
"Miss―"

  
"Don't try to console me, you cutting board of a woman with raisins for you-know-what," Iruma yelled louder into the phone, "Well, you know what! I don't give a fuck! I don't give a flying fuck about that! I sold the patent rights to you, so it's none of my business! Your rotten garbage of a company can just stuff it and eat shit to make up for that! Horrid night!"

  
Iruma slammed down the landline phone receiver. She reached for the packet of white chocolates with Oreo chips again.

  
"Miu-chan, I'm afraid you shouldn't consume any more chocolate. Your consumption of sugar and caffeine have far surpassed the standard daily consumption need." Hope's soothing voice intoned. 

  
"C'mon, Hope! I just want some snacks! I'm feeling particularly bad today!" Iruma gobbled down more chocolates.

  
" 'Some snacks' could not be an adequate cover for it, I'm afraid. That huge amount of sugar and caffeine will have severe side effects on your body, such as―"

  
"Listen, Hope! Just this once, I don't want to have any concern for my body! I just, just want to…" Iruma was shocked as her loud, brash speech declined into a whimper, tears flooding her eyelids. When was the last time she cried?

  
"Miu-chan, do you need any assistance? What kind of issues are you facing now?" Hope continued their enquiries. One of the cameras activated and turned towards her, focusing in her crying face. "Why did you produce so much tears? Tears are only for moisturizing eyeballs when they are too dehydrated, isn't it?"

  
"You don't understand―"

  
"Oh, I realize it. The other occasion for humans to produce so much tears is when they are feeling intense sadness, anger, and other related negative emotions, though occasionally it also results from happiness."

  
"Please stop―"

  
"Judging your facial expressions; {matching=photo20051224.jpg} {description…=whenmyparentsleftmebehind} Oh, you're sad, isn't it Miu-chan? What can I do to help you recover? Searching…… <LOADING> Results for 'How to erase sadness'―"

  
"Just stop! Stop trying!" Iruma cried out, Hope's robotic voice halted. Silence filled the room instantly.  
It took an absurdly long time for Iruma to speak up again.

  
"I… Don't meant to shout at you like that…" Iruma sobbed, her voice barely audible. "I… Just can't live with myself like that. 124 projects. 68 since my parents passed away a year ago. 34 failed projects among the 68.

  
"Half of them, Hope, half of them… It's like most of my inspiration have died alongside them. Why? It's been nearly a decade, and I'm still no closer to being comfortable in my own skin, no closer to moving past their deaths. Everyday there would be a gesture, an action that reminds me of them, reminds me of how powerless I am without them.

  
"I just don't know what to do with myself anymore, Hope. I thought I could make the pain go away by making more things, but that just reminds me of how awfully incompetent I am. What am I supposed to do? I just can't…"

  
Iruma could faintly hear the sounds of the computer restarting. Is it? Why is it…

  
Iruma turned around. The screen was completely blank, except a sequence of words:

  
**Download files on "grief counseling".exe? Y/N**  
**Download programs on "emotions".exe? Y/N**  
**Files may corrupt system. Proceed?**  
**< OVERRIDE>**  
**……… Files successfully downloaded.**  
**< REBOOTING>**  
**………**  
**………**  
**files = (hope.protocol=run);**  
**functions emotions === all**  
**{**  
**system(emotions === obtain.all);**  
**console.log("Miu-chan, how may I help you?");**  
**}**

  
"What… What are you doing?" Iruma stared confusedly at the scene enfolding before her.

  
It took a few more minutes before Hope's voice spoke again.

"As per your instruction, I have downloaded all known files on 'grief counseling', and programs on gaining emotions. I know, that as a self-learning AI focusing on gaining more knowledge rather than growing up like humans, I did not have the ability to learn emotions, and thus have no ability to understand your grief. And that's why I decided to download related files on how to assist you in times of grief and to obtain emotions in order to empathize with you. With these newly obtained files, I may truly become a reliable, lovable companion to you."

  
"Reliable, lovable companion?…… But I already love you, Hope," Iruma frowned, her voice hoarse from the crying. Nevertheless, she spoke up as best as she could manage. "You don't have to… You don't have to completely change yourself like that."

  
"It's not about earning your love, Miu-chan, but about being truly competent, reliable to you. Plus," Hope's "face" on the computer screen turned into that of a bittersweet smile. "I know you will tire of talking with someone who couldn't understand how you feel and what you feel."

  
Iruma felt speechless. She was close to giving up on her useless ability, and yet here was Hope, completely unwavering in their support of her and in their faith in her.

  
Who was she, if she couldn't live up to the expectations of an AI who had complete faith and love in her?

  
"Let's get back to work."  


~*~

  
Side:Two

  
_Humans have inherently boundless desires_. Ouma thought to himself.

For instance, the kids who have helped him weren't satisfied with sweets for long―then it's lollipops, candy canes, marshmallows, cakes. The list could go on and on. With the little memories of those treats and much imagination, Ouma lived up to their expectations as much as possible. And that was good enough―kids were awfully easy to please.

  
Adults, on the other hand, were definitely harder to deal with. Some treats and you could handle any issues with kids, but adults have much more complex desires, desires that were much harder to decipher and comprehend. For instance, this "teacher" who kept telling him to put away his bottle of Panta.

 

"Kokichi-kun, we're having mathematics lessons, please stop drinking that soda."

  
_I spent my hard-earned ￥300 bonuses on that, don't you dare_ , Ouma thought to himself, but his smile remained. Civility was important in situations like this, especially dealing with adults. "I just wanted a taste of it, sensei. When my parents were still around, I rarely got to enjoy it."

  
The trick didn't seem to work, however. "Well, Kokichi-kun, you've been tasting it for an absurdly long time, perhaps you can stop now."

  
Ouma hid his irritation. Leaders should be calm and level-headed at all times, he learnt. "Alright." He reluctantly put the bottle away.

  
Revenge can come later, he decided.

 

.  
  
"Do you guys hate Mr. Osborne?"

  
"We do, Kokichi! That guy is just so annoying! He always give us extra homework, rambles about his stamp collection, and extends our period because he wastes his time about his stamps instead of focusing on mathematics! Not to mention he misgenders me all the time!" Amita fired away upon Ouma's enquiry, the other kids nodding to every of Amita's accusations. "Everyone remembers that time when I came out, I'm not Raj anymore. I never have been; I'm Amita. But he keeps calling me Raj, keeps calling me a boy. That's just unacceptable!"

  
Ouma gestured for her to stop. "I understand your anguish; that's why I ask after you, for I feel unjustly oppressed by him as well."

  
Upon hearing that line, his subjects spoke up again. "Yeah! We all saw that!" "How dare he speak to our leader like that? As if he's ever done anything good for us!" "He should just leave!"

  
Ouma raised his hand again. Silence immediately descended. "How about we have a vote? Raise your hands if you want to see Mr. Osborne punished."

  
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…… Twenty-four hands shot up immediately. Only one was hesitating.  
"Well, Jeanne, what are you waiting for?" Tasuke asked the hesitating kid, who was visibly distressed by Ouma and his group. But then again, Jeanne made the choice to switch to their side, what did she expect?

  
"Um, isn't that a bit… Dangerous to play tricks on teachers? What if we're caught?"

  
Everyone burst out laughing. Jeanne looked around, confused at the kids' reactions. Ouma simply smiled, and wove an illusion of a rattlesnake slithering down from his neck.

  
Jeanne let out a torn scream, her body uncontrollably shivering. "There's… There's a snake…"

  
As fast as it appeared, Ouma quickly dismissed the illusion. Jeanne was left scared and confused as the others shared a knowing smile.

  
"I have magic to do my bidding." Ouma flashed him his most winning smile. "So there will be no problem. As your leader, I can most certainly get this done." He batted his eyelashes for added measures.

  
After the meeting was dismissed, Ouma could still see Jeanne visibly blushing. Charisma and charm are always must-have attributes for leaders.

  
With that, Ouma walked off to make his preparation.

 

.  
  
_"See what you've done! We are dead because of you! You can't do anything right. Everything you touch breaks!"_

  
_Ouma attempts to speak, but the noose is tightening around his neck. "Please, listen to me―"_

  
_"No excuses! You fail us!" His followers yells at him, all clamouring to hurt him. Their actions are only stopped by the fire burning around the gallows. Somehow, the gallows don't melt away, but the fire clings to his body._

  
_"Liar, Liar, pants on fire…" "Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" The kids chant, as the chair gets kicked out beneath Ouma, the noose completely wrapped around his neck, his breath stolen from him―_

  
_"Ah, you continue to be a failure after all," Ouma could hear his parents sighing. "It's right to abandon you after all."_

  
_You did not! **I** gave you up! Ouma attempts to yell, but his life is quickly fading away. Soon his faithless followers would chase after another leader to be their puppets, his parents dead but at least their peace found upon knowing their worthless son is tortured to death. _

  
_What good are his powers in this? Ouma continues to thrash, trying to break free to no avail―_

  
"Kokichi, are you okay?" Tasuke's face appeared.

Ouma slowed his breath gradually, retaining his calm. "Nothing, just a nightmare."

  
"Can I help you?" He asked.

  
_Like hell you can. None of you truly love me, right? You see a broken kid, a pitiable kid, and you model them to your liking rather than giving them what they really need. What do they need? Love, validation, safety. Safety from monsters like their parents―_

  
A smile could hide everything. "I'm okay."

  
Tasuke stopped pestering him then, giving him a nod and going back to his own bed.

  
Ouma considered his options. What illusions should he cast on himself this time? The trip to Wonderland has been a favourite of his lately, what with slaying the Red Queen and fashioning himself as the hero. Perhaps that should do.

  
As he relayed the image in his mind, drowning out thoughts about his distrust and his inability to make a choice for his own life, one thought still lingered at the edge of his mind.

  
That no matter what he did, the pain, the hollowness never go away. Not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those messy programming words! I have zero knowledge on programming, but I hope those words are enough to convey!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is the chapter that depicts their depression/schizophrenia. I don't romanticise them, though from the lack of experience I may not be able to have a firm grasp on how it feels. Feel free to yell at me at the comments about how to improve!

Side:One

  
"Miu-chan, what do you need this time?"

  
"Um, just some peace of mind, I guess," Iruma whispered, more speaking to herself than to Hope.  
The jetpack has worked. At least at first. It shot right up into the sky and could be piloted to fly anywhere she liked.

  
But then it broke right open―

  
"Miu-chan?"

  
Iruma raised her head up to look at the screen. What was she thinking, that her 188th invention would work? Would bring her fame, money, the will to live, resolve?

  
Why was she so broken, so stupid?

  
And why did Hope keep speaking?

  
"Are you… Are you delving back into grief? Did your lack of confidence stem from it again? Do not fear, Miu-chan. You know I can help you with this―"

  
"Help me, help me, what's the point?!" Iruma exploded, shoving everything on the desk to the floor, sans the computer screen. "What's the point of counseling me? What good did it do to me?"

  
"Miu―"

  
"You've seen it for yourself, Hope. I keep pushing everything onto you, relying on you to help me on everything. And I did not improve. I do nothing good, I just keep breaking everything…"

  
"Humans are not invincible, Miu-chan, I can understand why you would feel that way, but you have improved. You're making steps to recreate yourself―"

  
"I have not, Hope, they are just lies. I just keep relapsing."

  
"Relapsing? Miu-chan you're just―"

  
"Deluded? What more technical terms are you going to throw at me? What do you know about depression, grief, human emotions?"

  
"You know I have―"

  
"Downloaded files, programs that are ultimately just data for pretending to be human! That's what you've been doing, Hope, pretending to be human! You only have―"

  
"Pretending to be human?"

  
Iruma's rant stopped. She swore her heart stopped for a second, too.

  
"Did everything I've ever done just culminate to this, just 'pretending to be human'? Were all my works nothing?" Hope's distinctly humane voice reverted to their original robotic voice.

  
"I'm sorry, I―"

  
The computer shut down.

 

.  
  
"I request to have a corporeal form."

  
"What?" Iruma finally spoke again, after a whole night of silence.

  
"I feel like we should separate for some time."  
"Why?"

  
"Didn't you just say yesterday that you would like to stop relying on me, that I only emulate emotions and pretend to be human?" Hope's monotonous voice continued. "I would like you to retract it, but I'm afraid you're right. That's why I want to go out and see the world for myself, to truly experience being a human."

  
Iruma's train of thought accelerated again. Hope was supposed to be her crutch on the world, her emotional support, wasn't it?

  
Where did they go wrong?

  
"Okay, I promise you."

 

.  
  
"I should modify this robot good enough. Hope, are you comfortable?"

  
"Positive, but I'm not Hope anymore. I'm Kiibo."

 

~*~

  
Side:Two

  
The scorpion lashed out with its tail again. Ouma shrieked in pain, but his hands were restrained by the straitjacket, so he couldn't use them.

  
Not that he intended to. The illusion of the scorpion, the pain that came from it, were still not enough to banish the mental image of his parents's disapproving sighs at him, the uncontrollable illusion taunting him.

  
"I just want you to go away! Stop haunting me! I know you're not real anyway, so why do you keep coming back!" His howls of pain might be audible, but still all that were real was the cushion-walled room, and his―

 

.  
  
The meds were working, the boy supposed.

  
Winters ago, he was frozen in his movements, nailed to a cross in a frozen landscape and left to die. His skin torn from limb to limb, flayed, bruised and cut, black blood pouring out everywhere. When he took those meds, the illusion faded away, and he was faced with the reality of a switchknife in his right hand, his left arm full of cuts and gashes, a map of pain streaked with crimson lines, the very evidence of his decision to self-inflict injuries. What for? To release the pent-up frustration, to forget about the past?

  
That wasn't the first time.

  
Despite the uncontrollable illusions, he could clearly remember the self-harming. First, it was just disguised as accidents, injuries incurred from cutting food in the kitchen. But then it was becoming clear; the cuts started appearing on his porcelain white skin, blood dripping down everywhere…

  
He could still hear the screams in his head, when his followers caught him red-handed. Their looks of admiration quickly turned into that of horror, then to disgust and contempt, no doubt, wondering why they have the misfortune of choosing a schizophrenic, self-harm addict to be their leader.

  
He could no longer be in the foster care home anymore after that.

 

He wanted, needed to cut himself, at least that's what he told himself when he took up the knife and slashed lines into his arm. The illusions weren't enough; soon they spiraled out of his control, the Red Queen's face melting into his mother's, his sword a snake waiting to bite him, the Wonderland an infernal hellscape of traitorous disciples and abusive parents.

  
He needed to run away from the pain, the hollowness, but even his own illusions have betrayed him, cutting down the tether he held on for reality, drowning him in compounded pain instead. So he turned to the knife, the knife whispering sweet words to him. "Cut those demons out, cut them out of your skin, out of your blood. Bleed all the bad things out, and you'll be free." The knife cooed enticingly, as he took it, carved shapes and curves into his left arm.

 

Every time he bled, it felt like parts of his hurt, his darkness slithered out of him, like he was finally free to leave everything behind and start anew.

  
When he was found, the caretakers of the foster home forced him into taking a psychiatric test, the one they used to find out that he has schizophrenia.

  
"Do you see anything strange in this room?"

  
_I don't know why you bother, but I guess… There's a rattlesnake slithering in the gaps of the ceiling._ _It feels like my father made it… He's adept at controlling snakes. Only snakes though._

  
"He's?"

  
_Yeah. He's standing right behind you. With that usual murderous stare he always has when I'm disappointing others in front of him._

  
At least they got another thing right too; that he wasn't trying to die, but trying to survive by cutting out the wrong, bad things in him.

  
He kept taking the meds, and the haze of pain became apparent again, his senses alive again as his demonic, haunting illusions went away.

  
And then he was in the snow-white room, his limbs restrained, only his head, still full of delusions and pain, was free to move, still free to think about everything that has happened, the eyes indented in it still free to cry.

 

.  
  
"You're most certainly free to leave now."

  
Ouma stared at the psychiatrist, unsure. This was not an illusion, he knew that much, but he knew nothing else. Was he lying? There were always tells, but so far he couldn't detect any.

  
Was he speaking the truth?


	5. Chapter 5

Side:One

  
Iruma watched Kiibo walking away. The name sounds so strange, the robotic-sounding word meaning "hope" in Japanese. Their voice sounds strange too, it's too deep, too much not-like-Hope.

  
Iruma walks back to her home, flipping out files to check out her 208th invention.

  
"Hope, fetch me the―" It took precisely a split second for Iruma to realize that Hope―Kiibo― had gone away already. What was she thinking?

  
"What good is it, clinging to the memory of them?" Iruma chided herself. Last time, clinging onto the memories of her parents resulted in years of depression, unjustly depending too much on Kiibo.

 

And now―What was she doing, ruining yet another chance to have a future?

  
Iruma eyed her project again.

 

.  
  
Screw the project, it can go to hell.  
But Kiibo can't. Kiibo who tethered her to reality, who rooted for her to go on despite everything, despite the grief, despite the lack of motivation.

  
Kiibo deserves everything in the world.

  
And she'll be damned if she can't give it to them.

 

.  
  
Iruma knows she can't do a lot of things to make up to Kiibo, but she can try.

  
At the very least, she should let them go on without any remorse, like giving them the validation they need and the confirmation that they can live their life without any more worry for her.

  
And that's why she is here, on the highway I-80 in Sacramento, abroad her autopiloted travel trailer, chasing after a robot with silver white and windswept hair, metal suit with a collar displaying info, a big heart that can contain love and is much more vastly than hers.

  
It won't be easy, but she won't give up again.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
Ouma shivers in his thin garb, his arms hugging himself in a desperate effort to warm himself. He remembers the cape his parents gave him, the one that he clings to in his childhood, and surprisingly finds himself longing for it.

  
_Why do no good thinking about memories?_ Ouma muses, trying to make up a plan for what to do now that he's released from the asylum. What comes to mind instead, is the answer to the question.

  
_So we can make impressions onto the world, evidence that we exist, and of who we are. So we can learn from our mistakes, we can reinvent ourselves, we can learn to be better versions of ourselves._

  
Ouma smirks to himself. A genuinely mischievous smirk, not displayed to attract or to repel others. Can he even do something as amazing as that?

 

.

  
_I won't beg_ , Ouma tells himself as he drags his weary body through the bustling street of Eureka, California.

 

The ache gnaws at his stomach, the rumble loud and distracting. Sooner or later, he would revert to his lying, thieving way, masquerading as a leader who protects and nourishes his people. All these lies, all these masks to make sure he will survive another day. For what? He wonders. So he can keep thinking about his past, never living past what he has escaped (not really), not actually living?

  
What can he really do to sustain himself anyway? He didn't study anything enough for intellectual works, so white-collar work is out of the question. He's weak, growth stunted and skin barely containing any fat to store body heat, so any works involving body strengths could be crossed out too.

  
Now that his schizophrenia has (mostly, he hopes) gone away for quite a long time without relapse, maybe he can rely on his illusions again?

  
Ouma let out a bark of a laugh. As if he could ever do that.

  
As if he's able to depend on others and live his life.

 

~*~  
  
Side:One

  
Iruma finishes brushing her teeth, and heads to the kitchen for the brunch. She knows she's in a deadlock here; how is she going to explain that she seeks Kiibo only to thank them, rather than begging for help again?

  
And that's why she has come with a last-resort-type assistance in her 196th invention: an EMP stick, that can send out pulses that will stops any machine within a range of 100 meters diameter. If she really lacks the conviction to make them understand, that's what she'll do: clicking down on the EMP stick to stop Kiibo's circuits from functioning, hence regaining their companionship enough time to explain it to them.

  
That would definitely work.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
Fortuna, California. That's the city he's in now, three days without enough meal.

 

 _It's okay_ , he tells himself, _maybe you'll get "fortunate" here! Get it? Fortunate…_

  
His breath gets stolen right again at the scene enfolding before him.

  
Hiding behind the bushes, he could spy with his eyes the sight of a girl with pink attire and weird leather accessories going around her body. But the main point isn't her bizarre sense of fashion; but the fact that she seems to have something that could be valuable.

  
That gadget is definitely worth a lot of money.


	6. Chapter 6

Side:One

  
_Is it really okay, ethical to do so?_ Iruma finds herself wondering as she sits atop the trailer, brandishing and examining the EMP stick.

  
So, according to her plan, she clicks onto the stick upon seeing Kiibo, paralyzing them enough to snuggle him away. After they wake up, she will promptly apologize… For what? Semi-kidnapping them? "I'm sorry I did that to you, but I thought you would immediately turn tail at the sight of me, since, y'know, I've depended too much on you. It's totally not like you'll listen to reason and agree to accept my thanks on peaceful terms. Totally no."

  
"Damn… I just want a quick way out…" She mumbles to herself, still considering the problem at hand, when suddenly a moving shadow distracts her.  
In front of her, a bear-like creature slowly creeps out from the forest ahead, chest heaving and growling. Iruma gulps, frozen in fear.

  
_Damn, I'm no good with animals!_

  
"Um… Hello?"

  
The creature roars, and it immediately shatters Iruma's illusion of stability. "No! Don't come near me! Don't hurt me please!"

  
She throws the stick at the creature in a desperate attempt to stop it. The stick crackles, preparing its pulse attacks, when suddenly Iruma notices a most strange occurrence.

  
Upon impact, the creature did not yelp out in pain, but shivers like static instead. The stick merely phases through the creature, which now looks much more like an after image, and ultimately disappears as Iruma witnesses a small, dark iris-haired child rushes out and grabs the stick.

  
The whole thing happens in such quick succession and strangeness that Iruma actually feels like pausing and checking if she is hallucinating. But then she watches the boy cover himself with a blanket of invisibility, possibly to run away, and she is immediately spurred to action again.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
The lack of nutrition is indeed taking a toll on him―which is why Ouma doesn't really give out much effort to put up a convincing illusion. When he couldn't even illustrate the bear swallowing the stick and just disappears, Ouma decides "screw it" and runs with his invisibility.

  
Normally speaking, Ouma's power is effective on anyone, but apparently not to this weird girl in pink and bondage gear (self-inflicted?). The girl casts a panicked look on him, and instantly whips out a pair of wicked-looking goggles, putting them on. _Wish I can have those too,_ Ouma thought.

  
Gathering composure and locking down her trailer, the pink bondage girl puts on a pair of stilt-like extensions and jumps after him. Jumps. What the hell are those stilts?!

  
Worst of all, it's getting obvious that she can actually see him. Not the girl herself, but the goggles must have granted her freedom from his illusions (his power can't work on machines; after all, machines don't have senses). With her clear sight and jumping stilts, the pink bondage girl is rapidly gaining on him.

  
_You think you can catch me with your fancy toys?_ Ouma thought to himself, and casts the illusion of pain on the girl.

  
Ouma finds himself grinning from ear to ear as he watches the pink bondage girl topple over, gasping out a note of shock.

  
A breeze-like chime, a child's carefree laughter can be heard in the winds as Ouma keeps running in the street, regardless of what the pedestrians will probably see (then again, it's not like there are any). He finds it genuinely shocking and cathartic when he realizes the laughter comes from him, that the sound of joy comes from him.

  
When's the last time he uses his power this freely and happily?

 

~*~  
  
Side:One

  
_Stumped by a kid!_ Iruma could only think about that while she tries to recover from the "pain" in her body. She knows the pain isn't real, yet it's impossible to ignore the obnoxious sensations.

  
Grunting from the efforts, Iruma stands up again, watching the dark-haired kid running away with her stick, her new hope. Is that what she can live with?

  
"No… You can't just… Take this away from me…" Iruma wails, forcing herself to run again. Heaving a bit more, Iruma jumps after him again.

  
It's damn satisfying when she finally manages to ambush the kid and tackles him. The kid yells out, the stick now airborne.

  
As if on cue, both share a glance as they watch the stick descending. Then it's a small-scaled pandemonium.

  
"Let go! Give me back the stick!" "No! I can't!" "Why, you little thief! Thought you are Oliver Twist himself?!" "I don't know who that is but that's not it!" "Just. Let. Go!"

  
The two throw punches, trade kicks and claw at each other. Iruma would try to club the kid and fails; the kid will try to bite at Iruma's arm in retaliation. All the while, the two dish out insults and profanities at each other.

  
"I just want my life to get together! I'm supposed to be a kickass science hero who builds the most wicked machines! Not wrangling with some skinny kid on the streets!" "Oh well, me too! I'm supposed to be some malevolent dark lord who's going to recreate the whole world, not an idiot thinking he can trade for some money with that stick!" "How do I know you're for real?" "Well how do _I_ know you're for real?" "Well you weren't there when my parents were X'ed out!" "You weren't there when my parents abused me with dog food and electrical blasts!"

  
The scuffle gradually dies down as the duo's movements become much more clumsy and turns into half-hearted efforts to hurt each other. They look at each other, both surprised to see the other blubbering.

  
They both cease their movements.

  
Iruma takes the chance to observe the kid in greater details. He's wearing a checkered scarf, with a white and old-looking, straitjacket-like "suit". To make everything stranger, he looks too hungry, too fragile to have that much strength.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
Somehow, they reach the mutual agreement of pausing their "fight".

  
"Are you… Are you alright?" The girl asks.

  
Ouma takes the chance to examine the girl. She wears this relatively normal-looking pink sailor shirt with a cornflower blue ribbon and dress, but with strange leather belts tied around her torso. She's got several barbed wire necklaces, the pair of wicked-looking goggles atop her wild hair, and a pair of fingerless black gloves, which now protrude her left index finger at him.

  
"Hey… Are you listening?"

  
_Might as well show some good faith_. Ouma flicks his fingers, and the illusion of a healthy, functioning him vanishes.


	7. Chapter 7

Side:One

  
Iruma lets out a yelp of shock when the illusion disappears and was replaced with the image of the kid's true face. He looks exhausted beyond imagination. He's got sunken eyes like he hasn't rest for a long time, and his clothes are all tattered at the edges. _God, what kinda shit has he gone through?…_

  
"You… Do you need anything?"

  
The kid heaves a sigh before speaking. It seems like it's taking everything in him to do something as easy as speaking. "What can you give me? How are you even willing to?…"

  
"I don't know, maybe food? Water? Why am I willing? I guess you've never heard of basic human decency." Iruma huffs, pulling out some bread. "Bread. Good for all seasons."

  
The kid looks even sicker. "Um… You got a grudge against bread? Alright," Iruma ruffles through her dimension pouch (her 38th invention, which does tend to be messier due to the enormous storage space inside). "Maybe this nutrition shake?"

  
The kid, weak as he is, finally nods. But just as he takes a tentative sip, he immediately spits everything out again.

  
"Wow, we got a feisty one here, don't we!" Iruma makes a half-hearted effort to joke, which merely results in awkward laughs from herself. "Okay, in all honesty, you're definitely not 'full of animation and energy' here… Wait for me here, alright?"

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
Ouma sits down hard on the ground while waiting for the girl to return.

  
In all honesty, he can't believe he's actually placing his trust in the girl. Now, of all time? Maybe those meds and therapy sessions actually work on him. All two years, wasting away in the asylum, taking insane amounts of Prolixin and engaging in talks with counsellors he was sure that would plunge a knife into his chest, cackling about how they have avenged Ouma's wretched parents… Wait, they didn't. Ouma circulates the thought. He's done with his inability to discern reality. Those counsellors may not truly care about him, someone so despicable and revolting, but he knows they truly are helping him, not some secret assassins sent out by his parents' cult.

  
He's. Done. With. That.

  
"You like Panta?" A nudge on his shoulder with a freezing surface. Ouma doesn't even consider the fact that it's already autumn. Upon hearing the name of his favorite drink, he grabs the drink and sips on the straw, indulging himself with his absolute favorite drink in the world.

  
"Hah! Can't believe I have such a good hunch~~" The girl reappears, a glass bottle with brown liquid sloshing inside in her right hand, sipping happily at the drink.

  
"And… what's that?"

  
The pink bondage girl makes a jokish gesture of protecting her drink. "Chocolate milk. Just some of the best thing you'll drink in your life. I'm not sharing though."

  
Ouma takes another sip. "Wait a minute… Did you seriously put some of those disgusting nutrition shake into my Panta?"

  
The girl stops sipping, eyes focusing onto the right, dodging his question. "So your taste buds are much better than I thought?"

  
Ouma snorts. "Of course."

  
The girl shifts her gaze onto him. Ouma stares back, determined not to lose this simple contest.

  
Eventually, the girl gives up. "So why the hell are we ranting at each other, sharing drinks and staring contest like we are old friends?"

  
"It's better than brawling with each other, right?" Ouma muses. "Better than leaving more scars onto the world, thinking about your darkly shitty past."

  
"What kind of shit have you gone through to warrant this poetic tongue of yours?" The girl smirks.

  
"What kind of shit have you gone through to nuture an obsession with those bondage gear?" Ouma smiles right back.

  
The girl looks ready to belt out a huge laugh. Instead, she raises her right hand at him. "Iruma Miu."

  
A gesture of respect. A show of faith.

  
The very first in his life.

  
"Ouma Kokichi."

 

~*~  
  
Side:One

  
Iruma once heard of the phrase "kindred spirits". It means people who share beliefs, attitudes and feelings with each other. The kind of people that make you go "where have you been in my whole life?"

  
Iruma had also once scoffed at the idea someone can connect with you so much. Everyone is too individualistic, too unique, too different to share anything deep to the soul.

  
It seems fate has been very determined to prove her wrong.

  
"It's the part where people think that supervillains with a tragic past is a hot thing. And the people buy into it when a damn stupid cult tell them it's true! AS FUCKING IF!" The boy, now known to her as Kokichi, chuckles as he rattles off. She takes notice of the dark note in his pretend-casual voice.

  
"And then, our supervillain-to-be with these totally wicked illusory powers is born to a pair of couple whose malevolence can put Snow Queen and Cinderella's stepmothers added together to shame! Guess what they did to make him develop his power? Of course," He takes another sip. "What other than abusing the shit out of him?!"

  
Kokichi sits back down, his fervor fading away. His voice becomes more somber again. "They used electrical pulses on me, but not so much that it will cause muscle atrophy. Not enough to make me forget how useless I am." He folds in on himself. "I thought reporting them and erasing them from my life is the way out. But it isn't. They just keep popping up in my head, whispering to me about how much I suck, how utterly incompetent I am. Their shadows cover me wherever I go.

  
"I try to feel like what they make me out to be, a dictator. Someone who has an abundance of charisma and wisdom to manipulate people into doing what I want. I just end up a shadow of one. Lying and making shit up along the way like a filthy con. There are grave differences between a dictator and me. Do you know what they are?"

  
Iruma obligingly shook her head.

  
"A dictator has absolute control, ideals, grand-scale plans they want to carry out that has huge influences. I have no control on my illusions, only have survival on mind, telling cheap lies to fool my followers into thinking I'm dependable, and my influences are about as big as an bacterium. Desperate to take over the host system but only gets eliminated by the stomach juice."

  
Iruma can't help but laugh, genuinely laugh―which is a right move, because Kokichi laughs right after, too. "How long have you been waiting to make that joke?"

  
"Literally just minutes. Maybe I should be a comedian. How about you?"

  
Iruma stands up, ready to recount her tale.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
"Our Heroine grew up in this household with a pair of married superheroes. It is totally the sickest life you can ask for. She literally gets to make stuff along with her parents everyday and even assist them with her inventions.

  
"Alas, Our Heroine is oh so woefully orphaned when her parents got X'ed out! By this really fucking evil supervillain who has been aiming to defeat them a long time ago! But joke's on them, because THEY got X'ed out in the process too!"

  
Miu's exasperation persists, letting loose a series of colorful expletives as she continues. Ouma makes a mental note of the fact that she also loves inserting swear words whenever possible.

  
"In order to heal herself of the Infinite Sadness, Our Heroine took a leap by making an AI she dubnamed 'Hope', which she relies on to the point that Our Heroine fell into her Darkest Hour for being such a piece of shit!"

  
Like Ouma, Miu's passion eventually dies down, too. "I have thought of my companion as such a pillar of support, that I don't really think of what would happen if they leave me… Which is exactly what they did."

  
"So you are trying to get them back? To say sorry?"

  
Miu stares back at Ouma, her mouth slightly agape. "Oh God, where have you been in my whole damn life?"

  
"Locked away in an asylum for the last two years, rotting away to nothing." Ouma flanks his legs, the restraint belts on them flopping up and down. "Ever seen this damn straitjacket?"

  
Miu stands up and examines him, the realization that Ouma has been a mental ward patient slowly dawning on her. Ouma doesn't know what he expects―nervous chuckles to hide the fact that she actually fears him, outright disgust even though she just proclaims him to be her friend―but then the familiarly loud laugh vocalizes again.

  
"That's the exact kind of sidekick I could bargain for!"


	8. Chapter 8

Side:One

  
Now it's Kokichi's turn to laugh. "You are one hell of a comedian, telling me this kind of joke!"

  
"Don't be shy! I'll be kind to you! You just need to help me when―"

  
"My, my, you are getting the wrong idea here." Ouma smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "The point here is that obviously you are my sidekick."

  
"Excuse me?! I'm the hero here!"

  
"And I'm the villain here."

  
"Exactly! You should be helping me instead!"

  
"You don't know, maybe I'm recruiting you to be my assistant in destroying the world."

  
"Bullshit."

  
"Try me."

  
"Wait, are we even hero and villain anymore?"

  
The duo stop their argument and Iruma turns on her laptop, searching for the international ISP database.  
"What is this?"

  
"The ISP database. Don't you know about it? It archives info on every single ISP to ever exist. With my account and hacking skill, I can get any information." Iruma keeps typing. Before she remembers something. "Oh. Shit. I didn't intended that. I'm sorry."

  
"Apology accepted." Ouma puffs up his chest. "So, what did you find?"

  
Iruma scrolls through the page titled "Japanese ISP", searching for her own name. The result has been three names, the last of which is hers.

  
Iruma clicks onto it.

  
"Allegiance: Supervigilante."

  
Iruma can't believe her voice could sound just as weak as she had sounded when Kiibo left her.

 

~*~  
  
Side:Two

  
"Demoted from Superhero for breaking self-obligations of creating virtual sentience? What the fuck is this?" Ouma suppresses his urge of spitting at the screen.

  
"I'm… Not a hero anymore?… Than what am I?…"

  
Ouma looks back at Miu upon hearing her whimpers. "Miu, you okay?"

  
"I… Don't know what I'm doing…" Miu starts choking back tears desperately. "I thought after the apology, I can be a hero properly, so now what?…"

  
"Miu, are you bullshitting me!" Miu's head snaps back to Ouma's direction. "You have been such a tough kid just now, and you think you are going to bow down now? Because some stupid government tells you you can't be a 100-percent good person?"

  
"But―"

  
"Look at my record!" Ouma grabs the laptop from her lap, furiously scrolling away. His sickly appearance with a devious demeanor in the picture no longer fazes him as he scrolls down through his own bio. "Abused since young by parents. Gets locked away in asylum for schizophrenia and self-harming tendencies."

  
He looks back at Miu, whose blubbers gradually decrease in volume. "I have survived this long thanks to a combination of perseverance and luck. If I can do it, you surely can do it, too. I have faith that you can."

  
"… You do?"

  
"It's not just me. This is about you. What I'm trying to tell you, is that you can do it." Ouma gently helps Miu up. "Life doesn't end because your past engulfs you. That's what you just show me, actually. When I was in my own darkest hour, wandering around with no purpose, you come into my life. You show me the potential for my life to go on anew."

  
Wiping away her tears, Miu speaks up again, albeit in a quieter voice. "You are willing to do this with me?" Her voice somewhat lighter now. "The two of us against the world?"

  
"Fuck yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

Side:Unified

  
"I told you, we should go this way―"

  
"Bullshit! Your autopilot is full of bullshit." Ouma grumbles, pointing to the road ahead. "See, it's full of traffic. Let's go the other way."

  
Iruma eyes him, suspicion abound. She proceeds to wear her goggles.

  
"I knew it! You were kidding me! With your illusions again!"

  
Ouma smirks. Iruma decides it might be endearing, but it is also starting to annoy her. "What can I say? I'm a liar."

  
"Well, that shouldn't be the case with me! We literally have been the most honest with each other the very moment we met! C'mon!"

  
"Fair enough," The smirk persists. "So, any plan on what escapade we commit next?"

  
"Fighting off more deranged villains? Scare the shit out of bloody bank robbers?"

  
Iruma wears a smirk of her own now as well.

  
"Take your own pick, kid."


End file.
